Dusk.
In the council chamber, Viserys sat at the head of the long table, flanked by three Kingsguard in white cloaks.
The great doors opened a crack, allowing a shaft of pale light into the dim hall.
Daemon stepped into the silent council chamber, and the doors slammed shut behind him, cutting off both the light and the sounds outside.
As Daemon approached step by step, Viserys suddenly realized just how tall and imposing his brother had become.
The lively, cheerful little boy in his memories, forever eager for adventure, seemed to grow increasingly distant from the man standing before him now.
Daemon’s eyes were slightly unfocused, and the smell of wine still clung to him.
Viserys, meanwhile, rested his hands upon Blackfyre, his expression stern and his gaze sharp.
Daemon looked him up and down for a moment, then smiled.
“You truly look like a king, brother.”
Viserys snapped, “Call me Your Grace, or I’ll have the Kingsguard cut out your tongue!”
At Viserys’s merciless words, Daemon’s eyes seemed to brighten even further.
“All right, all right.”
“Your Grace.”
Viserys had already heard the entire account from Otto.
More than seven witnesses had personally heard Daemon utter that name while drunk.
Rage burned in his chest.
He had lost his wife, and in the midst of that grief, his own brother by blood had maliciously slandered his son simply because Baelon’s birth had cost him his place as heir!
As Hand of the King, Otto had always been remarkably capable.
There was no possibility that he would falsely accuse Daemon.
Besides, the evidence was overwhelming.
There was no room whatsoever for dispute.
Viserys paused.
He reminded himself that even a hedge knight was permitted to speak in his own defense before being sentenced.
And Daemon was a Targaryen.
His brother.
So Viserys spoke again, unable to stop himself from seeking confirmation.
“Did you say it?”
“Mother-Slayer. Did you call Baelon that?”
The smile vanished from Daemon’s face.
He blinked, lowered his head, and stared at the dark floor.
He had no desire to deny something he had done.
He would not lie to Viserys, nor would he stoop to blaming his words on the wine.
After a moment, he said, “It was an accident…”
Viserys erupted.
The anger in his chest seemed to ignite with dragonfire.
All the brotherly affection he had shown Daemon had been thrown back in his face!
“Then you truly meant it!”
His grip tightened around the hilt of Blackfyre until the veins stood out along his hand.
“You did not wish to remain in the Vale, so I summoned you back to King’s Landing!”
“I have always spoken in your defense before the Small Council!”
“I appointed you Master of Coin, then Master of Laws!”
“I made you Commander of the City Watch!”
“Whenever you asked for coin or supplies, I gave them to you, even when the Small Council opposed me time and again!”
“I gave you so much!”
“And this is how you repay me!”
Viserys’s roar echoed throughout the chamber.
“You styled yourself my heir, and Baelon’s birth destroyed those ambitions. So while I was grieving the loss of my wife, you were nowhere beside me, Rhaenyra, or Baelon.”
The hand gripping his sword trembled, and his face flushed crimson.
“Instead, you lay in the arms of whores and viciously slandered your own kin!”
Faced with Viserys’s furious accusations, Daemon’s first instinct was not to defend himself.
Instead, a tremendous wave of anger and resentment rose within him.
Rage gripped Viserys’s heart, but an equal fury closed around Daemon’s throat.
His face, so similar to his brother’s, flushed just as red.
His voice thundered through the empty hall, briefly drowning out the echoes of Viserys’s shouting.
“Is this not exactly what you wanted, brother?!”
“You’ve wanted rid of me for years!”
“Now Baelon is born, and you mean to cast me aside. Drive me away, send me anywhere so long as it is far from you!”
“You want the Red Keep all to yourselves!”
Viserys roared, “Stop making excuses!”
“I told you!”
“After I invested Baelon as Prince of Dragonstone, I made a point of sharing a cup of wine with you!”
“I told you that you would always be my brother! That there would always be a place for you at my court!”
Daemon remained furious.
“Then why will you not make me Hand of the King?!”
“Ten years! You have sat the Iron Throne for ten years, yet not once have you considered making me your Hand!”
Viserys’s anger did not abate.
“Why should I?”
Neither man made the slightest effort to restrain himself.
In the Dragonpit, Daemon’s dragon, Caraxes the “Blood Wyrm,” suddenly opened the eyes he had been resting.
He released a shrill roar that shook the Dragonpit and spat searing dragonfire without restraint.
The commotion woke every other dragon.
They growled irritably, yet not a single one joined Caraxes in his fury.
Back in the Red Keep, Daemon stood his ground and stared straight into Viserys’s eyes.
“Because I am your brother!”
Viserys froze.
The fire burning in his chest seemed suddenly doused with cold water.
He exhaled and sank back against his chair, exhaustion showing on his face.
“Otto… Otto was the Hand left to me by Grandfather Jaehaerys. He is diligent. Loyal. He has never failed me.”
Otto had served him well.
Viserys had neither reason nor desire to replace his Hand.
“But I am your brother,” Daemon insisted.
By birth, he ought to have sat at Viserys’s left hand in the council chamber!
His brother had become king.
How could he not be Hand of the King?!
Viserys slumped wearily in his chair.
“Then why do you hurt your brother?”
“Why are you so cruel to me?”
Viserys stared at Daemon as if wondering when his brother had grown so utterly heartless.
Daemon’s anger faded.
He turned his head aside awkwardly and looked down at the floor.
“The Hand of the King is supposed to protect the king. Otto Hightower will not.”
“He will put his own interests…”
“Enough!” Viserys’s anger, which had only just begun to subside, flared again.
Daemon was always like this.
A few words from him were enough to stir Viserys to fury.
Did Daemon think Viserys did not know what sort of man Otto was?!
Otto was his Hand, his closest confidant, a man who understood him and indulged his faults.
Besides, who on the Small Council did not have interests of his own?!
Did Daemon truly think him such a fool that he could not judge the men around him?!
Viserys seethed.
Otto Hightower was merely the second son of House Hightower, a man with no inheritance awaiting him!
Only at Viserys’s court was Otto the second most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms.
Away from the royal court, he was no one of consequence!
Otto’s interests had always been tied to Viserys’s own, and therefore to the interests of the realm!
Viserys declared, “Otto Hightower is my Hand of the King and my staunchest protector!”
“And I am the king. I have the Small Council beside me, and the Kingsguard whose loyalty has been tested time and again. They will defend my rights!”
There were plenty of people around him to keep him safe!
“So who is there to harm me?!” Viserys stared straight at Daemon.
“Other than you!”
Daemon met his gaze.
“You.”
He spoke without hesitation.
“You are weak.”
“The Small Council? Nothing but a pack of bloodsuckers clinging to the dragon’s back and gnawing at it for their own gain. The Kingsguard? Brave men, perhaps, but little more!”
The words were brutally direct, and Viserys’s expression turned utterly cold.
“Enough. Enough, Daemon.”
He was king.
He could no longer tolerate Daemon’s contempt.
His humiliation.
Viserys was on the verge of ordering Daemon back to the Vale forever and forbidding him from ever appearing before him again.
Then he looked up.
Daemon’s silver hair gleamed in the dim hall, and his purple eyes were unmistakable.
The same silver hair and purple eyes as Viserys, Rhaenyra, and Baelon.
Among the black and brown hair so common in the Vale, those features would stand out terribly.
In the end, Viserys released a long sigh and sank helplessly into his chair.
He waved a hand in resignation.
“Daemon, remain in King’s Landing and continue commanding the City Watch. Or ride your dragon, gather your followers, and go wherever you please. I care not.”
“But remember this warning for the rest of your life. If I ever hear that name from your lips again, I will cut out your tongue.”
“And one more thing.”
Viserys rose.
“You will never be my Hand of the King.”
Unexpectedly, Daemon had calmed by then.
“But I will protect you.”
Viserys was exhausted in both body and spirit.
He had no wish to spend another moment listening to what he considered Daemon’s empty words.
Yet after walking through the doors one step at a time, he could not resist turning around.
Inside the silent hall, Daemon stood alone while dust drifted through a shaft of pale light.
In the end, Viserys said nothing.
He turned and left.
…
Baelon naturally knew nothing about the conversation between Viserys and Daemon.
But that night, Viserys, deeply wounded by what Daemon had done, found himself brooding alone in the dead of night.
He held Baelon like a confidant and rambled on, unintentionally satisfying all of Baelon’s curiosity.
Viserys complained bitterly about Daemon’s ingratitude.
He told Baelon how he had withstood pressure from the Small Council for Daemon’s sake, and how, even after investing Baelon as Prince of Dragonstone, he had pulled himself together and gone out of his way to reassure his brother.
As the words poured out, tears gathered in Viserys’s eyes.
Baelon lay quietly with his eyes open.
He looked perfectly calm.
Inside, however, he could barely contain himself.
He really could not make sense of this.
Wait.
Hadn’t you been raging just a few days ago, saying that slandering me was treason and had to be punished severely?!
And this is the punishment?!
You argued with Daemon once, and that was it?!
Not a single actual punishment?!
Even harder to understand was the fact that Viserys was the king, and he had just fallen out spectacularly with his own brother!
Yet he was still allowing that very brother to command the City Watch, two or three thousand armed men responsible for guarding King’s Landing and the royal court?!
Was he truly not worried that one day Daemon might lose his mind, decide the Red Keep needed a new line of succession, say something like, “Love you, brother. See you in the King’s Tower,” and then lead his men into the Red Keep to slaughter the entire family?!
Baelon unconsciously raised both hands to his head, his elbows pointing toward the Seven.
What in the world was Viserys doing?
Or was there genuinely something wrong with Targaryen blood?!
A few days later, however, reality proved something else to Baelon.
Whenever one remarkable fool appeared, another was never far behind.
House Targaryen’s exceptional talent for producing perfect matches had struck again.
“I’ve heard everyone in King’s Landing saying Prince Daemon has grown cruel lately!”
“Criminals in King’s Landing, whether they steal something or commit rape, all get their heads cut off if he catches them!”
“The day before yesterday, he got into an armed fight on the Street of Steel and killed three men!”
“Everyone’s calling him ‘Maegor Without a Crown’ now!”
What?
What?!
Daemon was astonishing.
In Baelon’s previous life, if a royal brother found himself in Daemon’s position, he would already have been kneeling like a dog, trembling in fear and swearing loyalty over and over just to preserve his life.
Daemon’s first reaction instead had been to get angry and shout right back at Viserys.
Even after openly falling out with the king, he had made no attempt to keep a low profile or quietly build up his strength.
He did not even bother hiding the fact that he was unhappy.
He simply went out every day to execute criminals and then visited the Street of Silk to vent his frustrations?!
His movements from morning to night were practically an open book.
What exactly were Viserys and Daemon doing?
The struggles between royal brothers in Baelon’s previous life had certainly not worked like this!
Something was wrong here…
No.
No, no, no.
This was right!
This was exactly how it was supposed to be!
At last, he had encountered something resembling a normal relationship between royal brothers!
Baelon’s mind, which had nearly tied itself into knots from spending every day hugging his dragon egg, suddenly came unstuck.
He finally understood.
Westeros truly had its own ways!
He could not simply apply the experience of his previous life here!
In the royal families of his previous world, ruler and subject came before brotherhood or the bond between father and son.
For Viserys and Daemon, however, brotherhood came before the relationship between king and subject.
The dull days slipped by.
Three months later, Baelon never expected that he would see Daemon again.
At the time, Baelon was vigorously practicing his kicks in an effort to raise his stats.
A single kick could now deal a staggering 0.19 damage.
Then, suddenly…
Viserys and Daemon walked up to his bedside together, talking and laughing.
Baelon: ?!
What?!
What do you mean you two have made up?!
He could barely comprehend it.